


Push

by tea_and_outer_space



Category: Mystery Skulls Animated
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arthur-centric, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Intrusive Thoughts, Multi, OCD, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slice of Life, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 14:25:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7848538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tea_and_outer_space/pseuds/tea_and_outer_space
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lewis is at the edge of the cliff.<br/><i>Push him, push him, push him, push him, push him.</i><br/>“Arthur, are you okay?”<br/>Arthur stumbles a step back, unable to stop the broken record in his mind.<br/><i>Push him push him push him push him push him push him.</i><br/>-<br/>Or, Arthur's intrusive thoughts get bad when the group camps out on a cliff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Push

**Author's Note:**

> shits been bad, and i use arthur to cope. poor bab  
> this takes place after all the events of the videos are wrapped up and all
> 
> also, if you don't know what intrusive thoughts are or never had experience with them, i really recommend looking them up before you read this, to get the general gist of what they are. i realize to an outsider they can be seen as pretty fucked up, and i don't want this fic to perpetuate the "mentally ill people are dangerous and scary" myth. intrusive thoughts aren't a persons own, and they don't make people bad people. they're just a thing that happens with some mental illnesses.  
> i'm not a bad person for having them, arthur isn't a bad person for having them, no one is.  
> please use discretion when commenting if you decide to comment on the fact that i gave him violent intrusive thoughts.  
> thank you.

It's been a year.

Everything is different, and everything is the same.

Things are patched up with Lewis. Lewis is undead. Vivi, Arthur, Lewis, they're still friends. They're also dating. Mystery's still their dog. He's also some type of kitsune demon with a bad past. They still have the van. The van was totaled and rebuilt. Same, different, same, different, so on, so forth.

Arthur's the one behind the wheel. His boyfriend and girlfriend are asleep in the backseat, Lewis sprawled out on the worn leather, Vivi curled up on top of him. Mystery is gracing the passenger seat, an extra tail or two out, his teeth a little pointer than usual, and he whines every now and then in his sleep. Arthur shifts a hand off the steering wheel to give him a scratch behind the ears, making the pup more at ease before he turns back to the precise 'ten and two' pose his uncle taught him.

Arizona is spread out ahead of them, dusty roads, miles from civilization. The road is long and dark, the van's headlights only lighting up so far ahead, and there's the crackle of rock of the nineties coming from the radio.

It's peaceful, but Arthur is anything but at peace.

Him being at peace is a rarity these days. Sometimes he'll lose himself in laughter, sometimes he'll get caught up in affection from his partners, sometimes he'll forget that he's a killer, he's a bastard, he's a mentally ill and disabled man with no job and no home.

Sometimes he'll forget, but his brain never shuts up for long.

_Pull the wheel, pull the wheel, pull the wheel, pull the-_

Arthur's grip on the steering wheel tightens, and he shudders in a shaky breath. He swallows thickly and turns up the radio a little, and tries to ignore his mind.

OCD is an odd thing, he muses. How he so casually thinks of hurting himself, of hurting others, it's terrifying but it's normalcy all the same.

The thoughts aren't new. He's had them for as long as he could remember, and a few months worth of googling when he was fourteen all quickly pointed to the same thing.

Intrusive thoughts.

He tried picturing them as monsters and shooing them away, he tried breathing and counting to ten, he tried all the tips and tricks from every article he could find, and nothing worked. Uncle Lance payed for one month of therapy but Arthur didn't want to be a drain on their already sparse finances, so he learned to deal on his own.

Arthur taps out a beat to the music with his metal fingertips; ignoring his mind and focusing on the music and the road ahead. A quick glance at the clock shows it was nearing one in the morning, and even though he bets insomnia would be a bitch tonight, he knows he should probably pull off the road for the night.

Anxiety and caffeine don't mix to make the best drivers.

Arthur drives a bit more, before the sight of cliffs came up ahead. He doesn't have Vi's laptop at hand nor a copilot to check their worn maps, but he's fairly certain they aren't near any motels. After a quick moment of thought, Arthur carefully guides the van off the road, driving for a little to be out of the way, pulling up alongside the cliffs.

If they were gonna camp out tonight, they were gonna have a hell of a view.

Arthur shifts the car into park and let his hands go slack, slumping up against the drivers seat. He shuts his eyes for a heartbeat, allowing himself a brief moment of rest.

_Drive off the cliff, drive off the cliff, drive off the cliff, drive off the-_

Arthur snaps his eyes open. He clenches his hands into fists, and tries to tune out the thoughts. He tries repeating the mantra that Lewis or Vivi tell him when they knew he was doing bad: the thoughts were intrusive, the thoughts weren't him, and he was okay.

Arthur shifts in his seat, turning back to look at the blue haired human and undead skeleton man in the back seat. A soft smile falls on his lips at the sight of his loves.

He almost doesn't want to disturb them, but with the way Vivi's neck is tilted, and with how Lewis's legs are angled, they'd be sore as hell if they slept like that for much longer. The trio has a couple blankets and an inflatable mattress tucked in the back of the van, and the Arizona air was nice tonight; it'd be a hell of a lot more comfortable than three people cuddled up on one seat.

“Hey,” Arthur says, twisting so he was kneeling on the drivers seat, facing the others, “Guys, wake up.”

Vivi stirs a little, pushing her nose deeper into Lewis's shirt. She always had been a grumpy person when tired.

“Guys-s-s-s-s-s,” Arthur repeats, louder this time, dragging out the word.

He really did hate to disturb them. With how Vivi's curled up on Lewis, and how Lewis has one arm about her, holding her close, they look like the picture of happiness.

_They don't love you, they don't love you, they don't love you, they don't love you, they don't-_

“Arthur?”

Arthur is snapped from his thoughts by a deep voice, jolting slightly. He blinks a few times, before his eyes land on Lewis.

“Are you okay?” Lewis asks, speaking lowly. Vivi was still asleep, refusing to wake up.

“I-I,” Arthur stutters out, before taking in a breath. He exhales slowly, and shakes his head lightly, as if he could make the bad thoughts fall out his ears and disappear. “Intrusive thoughts are being bad tonight. I'll be fine.”

Lewis watches him carefully for a moment, Arthur feeling slightly pinned by the ghost's scrutiny.

“Alright,” Lewis eventually says, worry still evident in his voice, “But if they get too bad, or if I can do anything, tell me, okay?”

Arthur nods, forcing a smile on his lips.

“Thank you.”

Lewis turns down to Vivi, who's still adamantly refusing to wake up.

“Vi,” he says, deep voice rumbling through his fire and bone body, “C'mon.”

Vivi screws her eyes shut tighter, and pouts.

“No,” she says, her voice muffled by Lewis's chest.

“Do the thing,” Arthur says, leaning a bit forward to them, “The ice thing.”

Lewis lifts up the hand that's not around his tiny girlfriend, and flicks his wrist. The bony hand gets coated with ice in a flash.

After practicing a bit, Lewis found out his powers weren't just limited to fire, there were a handful of other tricks and moves he could do.

And waking up or scaring his sleepy partners by sticking an ice cold hand up their shirt was one of them.

He moves his hand closer, and the second he's about to touch her, Vivi's eyes pop open, her features narrowed into a glare.

“Touch me with ice and you're dead, ghost boy,” she threatens.

“I'm already dead,” Lewis replies, but he flicks his wrist, willing the ice away.

“You'll be double dead,” Vivi says. She grabs her glasses from her hoodie pocket, and perches them back on her nose. “Where are we?”

“Cliff-side in Arizona,” Arthur supplies, watching the two as they untangle themselves and straighten up on the backseat.

“No hotel tonight?” Vivi asks.

_She hates you, she hates you, she hates you, she hates you-_

Arthur shrinks in on himself slightly, before shaking his head.

“We're kinda m-miles from anywhere, but the whether is nice, so I thought we could c-camp out with the air mattress.”

Vivi gets a sense of his unease easily, and leans forward to grab his flesh hand, giving it a soft squeeze.

“That sounds great!” she says, flashing him a bright smile. “I'll get the mattress ready, you guys get the blankets and stuff?”

Before either can agree, Vivi dashes out of the car. Not a moment later there's a bright gasp, and soon her boys are leaving the van to see what's exciting her.

Arthur rolls his shoulders and stretches his knees, and glances at the pair with a hint of jealousy. Lewis, quite obviously, doesn't get effected much by being cramped in the van for hours, and Vivi seems to always be springy and spry. Arthur, on the other hand, has some awful aches and pains; he reaches up his metal fingers to work out the knots in his neck as he steps out with the others. He slips the keys to the van into his pocket.

“Look at how pretty it is!” Vivi exclaims, flailing one arm out before her, as she perches on the edge of the cliff. Lewis lifts a hand up to her shoulder, preventing her from knocking herself off balance.

Arthur moves to stand by Lewis's other side, and looks out before them.

The view is absolutely stunning, Red rock moves in waves, occasionally interrupted by a stream or a patch of green trees. The moon is full overhead, and the sky is dotted with bright stars, graced with a few soft clouds. The air is warm, the wind is sweet, everything is perfect.

“I'm gonna go start inflating the mattress,” Vivi says after a moment, spinning on her heels to speed back to the van. Lewis and Arthur remain as they were, Vivi insisting that she could handle the bed on her own.

Arthur shuts his eyes, taking in the moment, letting the wind tease his hair. For a moment his head was quiet, and his loves were happy.

He was okay, they were okay, everything was okay.

Arthur steals a quick glance to behind him and Lewis, seeing Vivi messing with their things. She pouts a little as some of her blue hair falls in her eyes, her blowing it aside with a shot of air out of her lips.

A slight bit of movement catches Arthur's eyes next, his gaze being drawn to Mystery coming around to sit on the other side of Lewis. The kitsune-dog seems pensive, and just as drawn to the sprawled out canyon before them as Arthur had been a moment ago.

Naturally, Arthur's eyes drift to Lewis next. The wind makes his flame hair ruffle slightly, but his human form doesn't waver. He's entirely lost in the scene in front of them, his purple shoes edging the end of the cliff.

Though it has been a year, and even longer since Lewis had died, there's a sense of familiarity. If Arthur ignores the sparks of hair, the slight glow of eyes, he's looking at a picture of years ago, of his once alive best friend.

He's looking at a moment when he had both arms and he didn't have PTSD. He's looking at a moment when dogs were just dogs, and blue haired girls couldn't warp reality, and his best friend wasn't a ghost.

They're at the cliff's edge, and a chill shivers down Arthur's spine.

For a moment things distort in his mind, and he's on a jagged cliff, his hand is on Lewis's vest, his mind is screaming, Lewis is screaming-

Arthur screws his eyes shut.

It's a flashback, it's nothing more, he'll be fine-

“Arthur?”

Lewis's voice breaks in, and Arthur snaps his eyes open.

Lewis is at the edge of the cliff.

_Push him, push him, push him, push him, push him._

“Arthur, are you okay?”

Arthur stumbles a step back, unable to stop the broken record in his mind.

_Push him push him push him push him push him push him._

His hands shake and twitch, and he can't get the image of Lewis's face contorted in pain, an endless scream, out of his mind. There's blood, there's Vivi screaming, there's green, there's Mystery tearing off his arm.

“Arthur!”

_**Push him push him push him push him push him push him PUSH HIM PUSH HIM PUSH HIM.** _

Arthur stumbles back, his breath coming in in jagged gasps. He can't think of anything else, and Lewis won't stop looking at him, and Vivi and Mystery are staring, and it'd be oh so easy to dart forward and slam into Lewis with all his might-

_**PUSH HIM PUSH HIM PUSH HIM PUSH HIM-** _

Arthur turns and he _sprints_ , tearing away from the cliff and the trio on it as fast as he can. He practically dives in the back of the van, and he grabs the keys out of his pocket, hitting the lock button so fast with metal fingers that it shatters the plastic.

He drops the keys and scrambles back, collapsing into a sitting position. He draws his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around his head, screwing his eyes shut and trying not to think of anything.

Intrusive thoughts are just thoughts, but they were also the same exact thoughts that lead to him once upon a time killing his best friend.

Arthur shudders in a breath but gets no air, his lungs practically screaming. He can feel his pulse pounding in the back of his head, and he can hear voices in the distance.

“ _What happened?”_

“ _I don't know, we were just standing there and he panicked.”_

“ _Think it's a flashback again?”_

“ _It could be?”_

Arthur whimpers, and curls in on himself. He doesn't want to hear Lewis or Vivi, he doesn't want to hear reminders of all that he's fucked up.

He wants to be alone and far away from anyone he could ever hurt.

* * *

_His vision was green, and he couldn't control his body. Everything appeared like it was in a fog. Heat rose up in his arm, twisting and winding its way through his veins, flooding his mind. Arthur sucked in a breath of air, he never felt such pure **power** before._

_Lewis turned to see what the sudden noise meant, and instead of finding his best friends eyes, he found a stranger looking at him. Arthur's face contorted into one of disgust by another being's will, and he couldn't find his voice to tell Lewis to run._

_**Push him**._

_The thought was soft and quiet, unlike any intrusive thought Arthur had ever had before. It wrapped itself around his mind pleasantly, and before Arthur can stop himself or the being inside of him, he stepped forward, and with one shove he sent Lewis off the cliff's edge._

_Lewis let out a scream that is still embedded in every nightmare Arthur has._

_And then there was nothing._

* * *

There's hands on him.

Arthur is startled by sudden contact and lets out a soft whimper, huddling himself tighter as he's jolted out of the flashback and into reality. He flinches away from the hands on his shoulders, but there's nowhere to go, he's cornered in the back of the van and there's nowhere to run.

“Arthur,” comes a voice, soft and low. “It's okay, Arthur, breathe.”

It's Lewis's voice.

Arthur jerks in a breath, only now realizing the burning in his lungs from lack of oxygen. He breathes again, and again, and again, and he can't stop. His breaths speed up into hyperventilation, and he barely manages to choke out words in between.

“I'm s-s-s-s-s-sorry,” he stutters out, not daring to open his eyes. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!”

“Arthur, what's wrong?” another voice says, this one hovering near his side. It's Vivi, and worry is evident in her tone.

“I'm s-s-sorry, I thought I could c-control the thoughts but they don't stop, they never stop, they _never stop_ , and you were by the cliff, and they told me to p-p-p-push you, and I d-don't want to hurt you but I'm scared, I'm scared, I don't want to hurt anyone but I can't stop thinking and I'm sorry-”

Arthur is pried from his curled up position by two strong hands, and he doesn't even think to fight back. He's not sure what he's expecting, but before he knows it he's enveloped in Lewis's warmth, being pressed tightly against his chest.

Arthur brings his hands up to push himself out of the hug, but Lewis is having none of it. The ghost only holds him tighter, intent on giving his boyfriend comfort.

“Arthur, it's okay-”

“It's not!” Arthur snaps, and the sudden anger in his voice is enough to startle all three of them in the van. He shoves Lewis away, scrambling backwards until his back hits the backseat of the van. Both of his hands clench into fists, and he doesn't dare look up at either Lewis or Vivi. “It's not okay, it's _not_. I fucking killed you once, and what if it's not just intrusive thoughts, what if it's that... that _thing_ coming back! I don't know what's me and what's the thoughts and what's something else and I d-don't want to hurt you, this is _not_ okay!”

Arthur brings up his flesh hand to grip a fistful of his hair, drawing up his knees again, screwing his eyes shut once more.

“I'm a b-bad fucking person,” he says, mostly a whisper to himself, “You both would be b-better off without m-me.”

Tears spring up in the corners of his eyes and he _hates_ himself for breaking down like this. He hides his face in his hands.

“I d-don't want to be that monster again.”

Lewis glances over to Vivi, finding her just as much at a loss as he is on how to deal with this. He takes a moment before shifting his gaze back to the shuddering blond.

“You never were that monster,” he says, keeping his voice soft so as not to scare Arthur, “You were possessed, it wasn't you.”

“It f-felt like me,” Arthur whispers, “It felt like the thoughts and maybe it was me and maybe I wasn't possessed and-”

“Arthur,” Vivi breaks in, “Stop. It wasn't you.” She kneels down in the van, getting closer to his level. “That thing manipulated you, and it was what hurt Lewis, not you. It was _not_ your fault.”

Arthur risks looking up at the other two, trying to find something on their faces. Resentment, anger, horror, _something_.

Instead there's nothing but worry on Lewis and Vivi's faces, and Arthur can't figure out why.

He can't figure out why they don't hate him, because he doesn't feel like he deserves anything else.

“B-but what if I h-hurt you, either of you, I d-don't want to h-h-hurt anyone.”

Lewis moves forward, slowly. He softly turns so he's sitting next to Arthur, back against the backseat, and carefully places an arm around Arthur's shoulders.

“Then you won't,” he says. “You don't want to hurt anyone, so you won't, and we'll stop anything that would make you.”

“Yeah,” Vivi says, as she takes the spot on Arthur's other side, grabbing Lewis's hand with one of her own, and snuggling up against Arthur.

“But I'm a bad person,” Arthur says, his voice hoarse.

“Bad thoughts don't make a bad person,” Vivi states. “The fact that you can tell they are bad thoughts shows that you're not a bad person.”

Arthur lets out a shuddering breath, unsure of what to say. No amount of desperate words are going to convince the others that he's a bad person, and no amount of kind words are going to convince him that he isn't.

“I'm sorry,” he says, because that's all there is for him to say.

“It's okay,” Lewis and Vivi reply, almost in exact unison.

Arthur doesn't reply, and he sure as hell doesn't agree.

* * *

Arthur awakes at dawn.

He finds himself tangled in a mass of limbs, some human and some skeletal and some canine. He takes care when getting off the wobbly air mattress, gently nudging Mystery's tail one way, moving a half-bone-half-projected-flesh arm carefully another way, moving out from under a pair of blue tight-clad legs another. He manages to get out of the messy cuddle pile with not much trouble, and without waking anyone.

He glances at them, seeing Vivi roll over to spoon Mystery and sap up heat to avoid the cold Arthur left in his wake. Lewis's heart twitches a little from it's usual rhythmic beating, as it always does when either of his loves get too far. Apparently a few feet away from the bed is far enough in the stillness of night; Lewis had always been overprotective.

Arthur watches them for a moment to make sure no one was going to wake, before he turns and heads to the edge of the cliff. In the far distance he can see the sun peeking over the horizon, casting soft light over the world.

He runs his flesh arm over his eyes, his metal arm having been left in the van, trying to get out of the haze of tiredness. He had less than four hours of sleep, and the others would be waking to get back on the road in a while. Maybe he'd catch a nap in the backseat, but with the nightmares he's been having, he doubts he'll get any decent rest soon.

Arthur takes a seat at the edge of the cliff, and dangles his legs off the edge. He rests his hand in his lap, and instead of taking in the postcard-esque scene before him, he stares down at his feet. His mind is far too swept up in thoughts to think of much else besides the negatives.

His eyes wander down his arm, and he makes a mental note to put on his bracelet before all the others wake up. They all know about the scars that the bracelet hides, but he wears them anyway.

The deep scars are another product of the intrusive thoughts. Half self hatred and half OCD, back when he had two human wrists to tear apart.

The sight of the scars and their uniform pattern make his mind wander to his OCD, which makes his mind wander to his intrusive thoughts, which makes his mind wander to the night before.

 _Push him_.

The short command rolls around in his head like a coin spinning down one of those donation funnels in malls, sticks in his head like a lock clicking into place.

In the light of day Arthur has time to analyze, and so he does.

There's a distinct difference between the intrusive thoughts and the ones he had when possessed.

Like comparing apples to oranges.

They both grow on trees, they both are fruits, they both are sweet-

Probably not the best way to look at things, he thinks. Apples and oranges have too much in common.

He starts over.

The two types of thoughts are different.

The possessed thoughts were fuzzy, foggy, and distinctly _green_. They were shady and commanding, and a hell Arthur never ever wanted to go through again.

The intrusive ones were much more clean cut. They were normal, in the way that a ticking of a clock is normal, the way that ones pulse is normal, the way that the hum of a laptop is normal. They're there, they can be annoying at times, but they can be ignored.

He narrows his eyes at his wrist, and shifts his vision up to the horizon. The sun burns his eyes a little, growing brighter with the rising dawn, but Arthur doesn't really care.

He never asked for any of this.

His shoulders slump, and a small sigh falls out of his chapped lips.

He could deal with intrusive thoughts, he could deal with every violent urge, he could deal with _anything_ his brain wanted to throw at him, as long as the others stayed out of it.

Thoughts of hurting the others were where he drew the line.

And maybe it didn't matter because Lewis was a ghost and couldn't have gotten hurt anyway, but Arthur still had the same thought that lead to Lewis dying once, and he can't live with himself.

He thinks of leaving, and in his tiredness he can't discern if it's an intrusive thought or a normal one. Leaving has been something he's considered before, just getting up and walking away while the others were still peacefully asleep. Getting an apartment in some far off city, fixing things to make rent, living life in unsupernatural normalcy until his thoughts killed him or his guilt did.

Lewis would be happier, Vivi would be happier, he and Mystery wouldn't have to get into arguments over who gets the third front seat. They'd have to find a new mechanic for the van, but Arthur figures he could leave a notebook of notes for his mechanical-illiterate partners.

They'd do fine.

He clenches his hand into a fist, and the nails digging into his palm ground him.

The others might do fine without him, but he wouldn't do fine without them.

“Someone seems pensive,” a deep voice breaks in.

Arthur flinches slightly, and a hand is suddenly clamped on his shoulder, stopping himself from accidentally jerking off the cliff. He looks to his shoulder to find Lewis's palm, and then tilts his head back slightly so he can look up at the other man.

“Thanks,” he says, for not letting him fall off the cliff and die (although dying doesn't really sound like a bad idea, and if anyone had the right to let him fall off a cliff and die, it'd be Lewis).

Lewis takes a seat on the cliff right alongside Arthur, removing his hand once he's positive the blonde has no chance of falling.

The pair is silent for a moment.

“You're thinking about last night.”

Not a question, a statement.

Because, of course, Lewis always knows what Arthur's thinking. Arthur had always prided himself on being a bit hard to read, but Lewis had him pinned in a way no one else did, and more often than not he could read Arthur like a book.

Although, Arthur muses, he's sitting in self hatred on a cliff-side, of course he's thinking about the casual thoughts of murdering his ghost boyfriend.

Logical, really, totally.

Entirely normal situation.

Normalcy is relevant, he supposes.

“Yeah,” Arthur says.

There's no point in lying.

Lewis nods, and he doesn't speak.

A moment ticks by.

He still doesn't speak.

Arthur glances up at him out of the corner of his eyes. He knows what Lewis is doing.

A full minute passes.

He _hates_ when Lewis does this.

Another minute whittles away, a few birds sweep through the air in the distance. A pretty sight, really.

Arthur turns his gaze back to his lap. If Lewis thinks that him not speaking will make Arthur talk, he's got another thing coming. It may have always worked before, with him and Vivi and Mystery, it's practically one of Lewis's signature moves, but not this time. Arthur's not going to be the one to speak first, no matter if Lewis stays silent for all eternity. The trick won't work this time, no, not at all.

“I just don't get it,” Arthur says.

(Because, of course Lewis's method of getting others to talk first works. It always does. Simply remain silent, and then the other will feel the pressure to break the silence eventually. Works on the Pepper girls, works on Vivi, and it more than certainly works on Arthur.)

“I have these thoughts, these fucking terrible thoughts, all the time,” Arthur says, spilling out all the thoughts in his mind. “Last night I had the same thought that lead to me _killing_ you, and you're just okay with it?”

“You can't help that you have intrusive thoughts,” Lewis replies, choosing his words carefully. “I'm just worried.”

Arthur lets his shoulders slump, and shuts his eyes.

“You shouldn't have to worry,” he says, “Don't worry. If... if anyone gets hurts from these thoughts, it won't be you. Or Vi. Or Mystery.”

“That's _why_ I'm worried,” Lewis replies. “Not over us, over _you._ Arthur, I can't fucking imagine what you're going through right now.”

Arthur snaps his gaze up and over to Lewis.

“Me? What I'm feeling doesn't matter! I'm not the one who could get hurt-”

“You're the _only one_ being hurt,” Lewis replies.

“But what if it doesn't stay that way? What if I can't stop myself? Hurting Mystery or Vivi would be so easy, and what if I find a way to hurt you? The thoughts don't stop. It never stops. What if something happens, if I can't control it?”

Arthur bites his lip, and stares out at the canyon ahead.

“I just... all of you would be better off with me gone. I can't hurt you if I'm gone.” He pauses. “Or dead.”

Lewis takes a moment to think, not wanting to rush this. The last thing this situation needs is for him to say something reckless and scare Arthur further into his shell, so Lewis takes his time.

Lewis hates that he has talking Arthur out of suicidal thoughts down to a science, but he does. He can't rush this, he can't pry, he has to go easy if he wants to get anywhere with him.

“You leaving certainly wouldn't help anyone,” he starts. “You dying wouldn't help either. I don't think me or the others could function without you.”

“You'd find a way to,” Arthur replies, easily. “You all had lives before me, and you can after, and you'd be safer and happier.”

“Arthur, we wouldn't. No matter what you try to convince yourself, leaving us would be the thing that would hurt all of us the most. If you died, fuck, I don't even know what I'd do.”

Arthur, begrudgingly, remains silent.

“ _You_ didn't kill me. That monster did. And you are certainly not him. You have your bad thoughts but you deal with them, last night was proof enough of it. You know how to handle yourself, and, Arthur,”

Lewis pauses, hesitates for a moment.

He takes Arthur's hand.

The missing one, of course, as he's sitting on Arthur's left side. It had been something the pair had found out long ago, Lewis could interact with Arthur's not-there-but-there arm.

“You're not in this alone.”

Arthur goes stiff as a board when he feels Lewis's fingers wrap around his nonexistent ones. The contact was downright unnatural, and Arthur knew Lewis was being serious, touch on this arm was only reserved for certain occasions.

Talk of murder and suicide and bad thoughts and falling off cliffs being one of them.

Arthur crumbles, just a bit.

“I d-don't want to hurt you,” he says, his voice coming out thick and worn. “I d-d-don't want to hurt anyone.”

“You won't.”

“But-”

“No buts, Arthur.”

A twitch of a frown appears on Arthur's lips.

“I j-just want my head to shut up for once.”

“I know,” Lewis replies. “Maybe someday it will. Maybe it won't. Either way, I'm here for you. Vivi's here for you. Mystery is. We all have nothing but trust in you. And you're not going through this alone.”

“I don't understand why,” Arthur says, his voice trembling just a little, “Everything I've thought, how terrible things get, why the f-fuck do you even keep me around?”

“Because I love you,” Lewis says. “We love you. Nothing's going to change that. Ever.”

Arthur lets out a breath he's not sure when he started holding, and he screws his eyes shut.

None of this makes a goddamn ounce of sense.

His thoughts are terrible, his mind is terrible, everything about him is horrible. He's a murderer, he's an asshole, he's an infinity of bad things, but Lewis and Vivi don't give up on him.

His own parents gave up on him, every other friend he's ever had, even Uncle Lance came close to giving up a few times. Arthur's life had been full of rejection, and he just can't fucking get why Lewis and Vivi don't leave.

Lewis runs a thumb over Arthur's ghost knuckles, giving his hand a soft squeeze, giving Arthur time to think.

Arthur bites down on his lip almost hard enough to draw blood, and maybe a few tears leak out of his eyes.

Neither comment on them.

When it comes down to it, he's broken. He's totally and utterly broken, and although he wants to protest more, wants to maybe pick a fight and self destruct some more, he simply doesn't have the energy.

Arthur hates being seen as weak, but he's too tired to care. He shifts, pushing himself into Lewis's side, burring his face in his chest.

“I'm s-s-sorry,” he stutters out.

Lewis wraps his arms around him.

“It's all okay,” he replies, “I love you.”

“I l-l-love you t-t-too.”

Neither are certain how long they spend on the cliff. Eventually Arthur's neck gets stiff, and Lewis's shirt gets a bit wet from tears. Dawn fades into day, birds sail overhead, clouds wisp past in the sky.

Eventually Vivi comes and silently sits beside the two, wordlessly joining them on the cliff. She takes Arthur's human hand and rests her head on his back; the entire curled up mess that the three of them are isn't quite comfortable, but it's for Arthur, so they remain that way.

After what feels like days, but what probably was just half an hour, Arthur unfurls. He slowly straightens up, giving time for Lewis and Vivi to adjust as he moves.

He scoots back a little from the edge of the cliff. With a clearer head, it doesn't seem as tempting now.

He doesn't let go of either Vivi or Lewis's hands.

“Worked some stuff out?” Vivi asks, voice soft. Arthur nods in reply. “Feeling better?”

“A little,” Arthur replies. His orange eyes drift to Lewis, then to Vivi. “Thank you. F-for putting up with me.”

“It's not putting up with you,” Vivi states. “We love you.”

Lewis nods in agreement, a soft smile appearing on his features. Vivi gives Arthur's hand another squeeze, and reaches out her other one to take Lewis's other hand, linking the three of them.

“We're in this together,” she says, “No matter what.”

Despite his exhaustion, Arthur smiles.

“I love both of you,” he says.

And he certainly means it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading, i hope you enjoyed this emotional vent-filled slice of life  
> lemme know what you think if you'd like  
> <3


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